The Dark Spots
by herondalefan
Summary: BB was a unique individual. An insight into the mind of L's second successor. BBxFem!A Companion Fic to 'Make The Most Of It'


So I've hit a bit of a writing block with the Girl's of Ki-Rin Academy (Plus I greatly dislike the way I have been developing the characters in that story) and I pinky swear promise that the next chapter of The Son Of Hades' Flower will come out soon! During vacation, while I was at camp, I challenged a friend to a poetry challenge. She wrote some Sherlock poetry and I wrote some DeathNote. Hope you like this companion fic to Make the Most of It!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the characters of DeathNote or the settings but I do own this poem. Other than that, don't sue!

** Warning: **Fem!A, suicide, angst, the works.

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**If there was one thing BB would admit**

**It would be that he was the tiniest bit**

**Different.**

From a young age, Beyond Birthday realized that almost nobody was smarter than him. He found little to no intellectual stimulation in his peers, who were more interested in toys and drooling than philosophical discussions. His intelligence alienated him from the young and old so he learned what being different felt like from his wee years. So when it started to hit him that no one else could see _everything_ he could, Beyond swore to himself that he would take his other oddity to his grave.

**From the earliest he could remember,**

**To the current December**

**He saw nothing heaven sent.**

Beyondsupposed that his interest in death was an inevitable thing. He never fully understood what the shrinking numbers represented until he saw the bodies of his parent's hanging from the rafters of their comfortable manor house. Instead of crying like a filthy, normal child he berated himself for not connecting the numbers to the convenient disappearances. Some kind of anomaly he was!

Beyond glanced back up at the frightfully still bodies. His ruby eyes soaked in everything from his father's expensive Italian shoes to the glassy look in his mother's green eyes. He wondered why they used old fashioned rope instead of a modern sturdy cord. They were awfully cliché.

**An array of numbers that floated,**

**They dictated the fate of the amiss and devoted.**

**They were his curse and gift.**

The traditional, religious feel of Whammy's House wasn't a very common phenomenon anymore in an orphanage, BB mused (Or now just B). He figured that he may in fact be a good fit to that unique atmosphere.

Stained glass windows, rough stone corridors, and wrought iron fences suited him just fine. He could almost think that he was in a fairy tale or book instead of a learning institution, but such thoughts were illogical and swung more to the 'imaginative' side of things. BB preferred to rely on logic and the obvious ways of the world rather than fancy dreams and hopes. You were born, you lived, you died, that was the truth of things. His eyes only made that clearer, the constant drain of numbers. He knew he had his own set but no matter how many times he looked in a mirror he could never see them. Therefore he had to do something to be remembered by. He did not want his draining life to be forgotten.

**He was the only one who could see the clocks,**

**Even on the children who still played with building blocks,**

**Between him and them, he built a rift.**

BB was encouraged to talk and discuss matters with the other children. They were almost at his intelligence level! Why wouldn't he converse with others who were in the same boat as him? He knew that was what the adults thought. But BB grew to hate the sight of those floating numbers. He had a time limit and he was stuck here being constantly reminded of it.

**One day he met a girl with only sixteen years,**

**She broke his walls and tried to banish his fears.**

**Soon it was fate he fought.**

Love wasn't the way to have his name remembered, but BB found himself caring less and less. A was a marvellous girl. So unique and bright, a firework in his dark monotone. But her limit was shorter than others. She wanted to have a happily ever after with him that he knew was not to be. So he tried to distance himself to minimize the pain. It had worked with everyone else so why not her!

But he started to unravel. Her numbers started to haunt his dreams as well as his days and he could feel himself slipping. Into what, he didn't know, but he terrified at what was on the other side of the brink. Her fifteenth birthday came and went and his sanity started to unravel. Fits of violence that he would only remember right after, pressure from all sides that poked and prodded him like a lab rat, and the colour red. Blazing red numbers, red jam, red liquid staining the soft white gauze on his girlfriend's wrists.

Her numbers were dwindling faster than ever and for long periods of time he couldn't remember what he had done. His only sign was ink smudges and smears of red that didn't look like lipstick. His girlfriend didn't wear lipstick anymore, perhaps she knew what was coming?

**Their friendship soon turned to love**

**But she was fragile, like a dove,**

**And on that faithful day he heard the shot.**

The black periods were starting to lengthen for BB. It had started as hours then days before stretching to weeks, but never before had he gone a month without remembering a thing. When he broke out of it all he had time for was a glance at his calendar and clock before racing out of the orphanage and into the church. He desperately crawled up the winding staircase in dizzying circles before flinging himself onto the top floor. He was just in time to hear a deafening crack and a spray of red before his vision went dark for the last time.

**It was the same time he had first kissed her,**

**Right on the dot. **

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Yay! Poetry! I got the idea of this format from a femNaruto poem and its been itching me ever since! Please review~**  
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